For the Love of a Phantom
by Lady Delilah
Summary: Christine and Erik were childhood friends. After years of separation they are reunited! But Raoul has other plans for our favorite heroine. strictly EC since we all know that's how it should have ended
1. Chapter 1

i don't own phantom of the opera or any of their characters. this is my own version of the story. hope you like it!

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A nine year old Christine glanced around her surroundings warily. The streets of Paris were dark and quiet. No one was on the street of any importance to her. Satisfied that no one knew where she was, she quickly opened the hidden door and slipped inside, clutching her basket tightly.

The passageway was dark and she could hear dripping water. Unafraid, she skipped down the hall happily. Instantly, she felt his presence. It made her smile brightly and she slowed to a halt as she came across a small boat.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Erik, why do you always have to be so extravagant?" she asked. She heard a soft chuckle and she stepped into the boat.

Taking up the paddle, she awkwardly steered herself to her destination. Soon, she saw the candles and sighed in relief. Her poor arms were screaming from paddling.

She docked the boat and picked up her basket. Soon, a figure emerged. A tall, lithe boy with a canvas sack over his head stood in front of her, his hands on his hips.

"Christine, what are you doing here?" he questioned, but secretly, he was thrilled to see her. His only friend besides Madame Giry, he cherished the small girl before him.

"It's your birthday silly!" she said with a giggle. "I came to give you your presents and some food."

"Presents…?" he whispered. No one had ever given him anything before. Christine strode past him to an area that was flat. From her basket she drew out a small blanket and parcels wrapped in towels. Erik drew near, curious. She smiled up at him, pushing her long brown curls out of her way and patted the spot next to her.

"Papa thinks you're just a figment of my imagination, but I told him it was your birthday soon and I demanded a pay raise in my allowance." She said proudly. Her father was the Duke of York in England, but he'd sent Christine to Paris to study as a ballerina under Madam Giry.

She set out a bottle of apple cider, a few pastries, and finally some ham. Erik's mouth watered. It had been long since he'd had a meal like this. They ate quietly, Christine giving most of it to Erik claiming she already ate and this food was for him. Touched by her thoughtfulness, Erik ate his fill and saved the rest.

Next she drew out two other packages. One was large and barely fit in the basket while the other was smaller.

She handed him the smaller. "You know, I wish I could see your face." Erik stilled, hating this topic that so often came up in their conversation. "I hate that old nasty sack. So I got you this."

He opened it and inside was a delicate white mask. It shone in the candlelight and Erik was speechless.

"I hope you aren't offended or anything." Christine murmured.

"It's wonderful, Christine. I love it." Erik said with a small smile. She brightened up instantly. Erik felt his heart trip at that smile. No one ever smiled at him before Christine.

"Will you put it on?" she asked hopefully. With a knowing smile, Erik shook his head.

"I will have it on the next time you see me." Erik said softly. Deflated, Christine nodded. But quickly, she perked up again and handed him his next present.

"I know you like music. You always talk about how you want to learn." Christine said bashfully. Pulling the cloth off the gift, Erik was stunned.

It was a violin, with resin for the bow and all. It glistened in the candlelight, reflecting off the dark wood beautifully. Erik was once again without words.

"Oh dear, you don't like it. I knew I should have gone with that other one they had in the store," Christine fretted, knotting her dress in her small hands. Erik set the violin down carefully before engulfing Christine in a massive hug.

Christine quieted, before letting out a delighted squeal and hugged him back. His lean frame easily held her petit one against his. Erik could feel tears running down his cheeks. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, other than Christine. His passion for music was quickly refueling at the thought of having his very own violin.

"Thank you, Christine." Erik said softly. She pulled away and grinned.

"I'm so happy you like it, Erik. I was worried you wouldn't. I couldn't afford a case for it, but maybe I can get that for Christmas." She said joyfully. "I'll bring you some sheet music next time I come down." She offered. Erik could only nod. His ran his fingers lightly over the strings, excited to begin.

They talked into the night, whispering about their dreams in life.

"One day I want a family." Christine said, her eyes dreamy with the thought. "A large family and a big house with lots of windows." She said.

Erik quieted at the thought. Already sixteen, Erik had often thought of what it would be like to have a wife, to have those heated nights where love was made over and over again. But alas, that was to never be for him. His cursed face ensured that.

Christine gasped, an idea coming to her. "Oh, Erik, you should be my husband!" she cried. She clasped his hands in hers. Erik choked on cider and stared at her incredulously.

"What?" he gasped. She nodded.

"You're much better than that stupid peacock of a Chagny they want me to marry." She made a face.

Ah, Raoul de Chagny no doubt, Erik thought bitterly. Possessiveness rose inside him. Beautiful, pure Christine belonged to him and _no one else_. His fists clenched as anger clenched his throat. The idea of that pompous show off touching his Christine made him sick to his stomach.

"Erik? What's wrong? Do you not want to be my husband?" Christine asked, her lower lip trembling. Erik knew this as a sign she was about to cry.

"No, no Christine. It would make me very happy to be your husband." He corrected gently. Instantly, the tremor vanished and Christine smiled. Erik very much liked the fact that Christine wanted him as her husband, but he knew in time that would change. Her innocence was overwhelming her judgment. No one wanted to marry a monster like him.

Christine yawned and leaned against Erik. "Good. You're my very best friend, Erik. Papa always says it's important to marry your best friend." Her voice was soft as sleep began enveloping her in its embrace. Erik felt emotion welling up inside him. His arm wrapped around her small shoulders as her eyes closed and her breathing evened out.

Picking her up, he began taking her back to her room in the ballet quarters. His hands tightened around her frame protectively. He would never let anything get between them. Christine was everything to him.

Little did he know how that would soon change.

* * *

"But Madam Giry, I do not want to go!" Christine cried. Tears leaked from her eyes and dripped down her face. Madam Giry had just received a letter from Daae ordering the return of his daughter to England. The older woman patted her hand in sympathy.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Now go pack your things. A carriage is waiting for you." Madam Giry said, her tired face crinkling with a small smile. Christine let out a small sob and ran off.

It wasn't fair! Christine thought. She was to be separated from Erik for forever! She would never get to see him anymore.

She slammed her door closed and leapt onto her bed, burying her face in her arms before letting loose her sobs.

_Chriiiistiiiine…_

She sat up at the familiar song. It whispered across her senses and she instantly calmed. Erik was here. She rubbed her eyes and looked around.

_Angel of Music, speak, I listen._ She sang softly back. Singing was their special way of communicating when all other words failed. It was their link, something no one could take away from them.

Erik slipped into her room through a secret door. She launched herself into his arms. She gripped him tightly, and Erik's throat clenched. He had heard the conversation between her and Madam Giry. He had been angered beyond comprehensive thought. But knowing his moments with Christine were limited, he refrained from doing something he might regret.

He held the sobbing child in his arms, praying to whoever would listen that they be reunited soon. Christine pulled away, sorrow evident in her chocolate eyes.

She noticed he was wearing the mask she gave him. It was a little big, but for the first time she saw a portion of his face. He was handsome for someone who was shunned so. His dark hair was dirty and ratty but straight as a board and fell about his face in shaggy locks. His face was smooth, at least the portion she could see. But she could see the beginnings of stubble appear on his cheek. Then she saw his eyes. They were the strangest and most beautiful pair of eyes she had ever seen. One was blue and the other was green. She had never seen such a thing before.

Forgetting his mask and his face, Christine remembered why he was here.

"Erik, what if I never see you again?" she whimpered. Erik softly shushed her.

"You will. I'll always be here waiting for your return," he tried to calm her. She nodded.

"I promise I'll come back. I'll come back and then we can write music together like we always wanted." Christine vowed. Erik smiled, and Christine saw his smile for the first time. It was a sad smile, and she could almost see years of pain behind it, but it was still a smile and it delighted her.

She stood on tiptoes and kissed his exposed cheek. Erik paused and blushed. No one had ever kissed him before. Christine pulled away, ignorant of his reaction.

"I guess I have to pack now," she said sadly. Erik began to help her silently. They stayed together until the coachman came for her bags. Only then did Erik disappear through the secret door. Christine glanced back before she left hoping for another brief glance of him, but there was none. Sadly, she shuffled to the carriage and off the England.

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there you are! reviews are very much appreciated.

LD


	2. Chapter 2

i do not own phantom of the opera or edelweiss

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_Ten years later…_

Christine stepped off the carriage lightly, paying the man to have her luggage brought to her small apartment she was renting across the street. The wind whipped her clothing and hair about her wildly and she struggled to hold on to her hat. She looked up under the brim, ecstatic to be back. Her beloved Opera Populaire stood magnificently in front of her. She grinned excitedly.

_Erik._ The name whispered across her mind before she could stop it.

She was finally able to return. After her father's untimely death, she inherited the estate and money. Once the funeral and business matters were taken care of, she had left for Paris immediately.

All she wanted now was to see her Angel of Music once again. His promise ten years ago rang in her ears. _I'll always be here._ She hoped he still was. Excitement made her fingers tingle and she quickly mounted the stairs, holding her travel skirts out of the way.

Music poured from the concert room and she drew close, her memory of the opera house leading the way. She quickly found herself backstage at a rehearsal. A woman, their new primadona she supposed, sang in the center of the stage. Christine winced at the tone of her voice. It was awful. Almost too much to bear. She cringed and shuddered. She wondered what Erik thought of this creature before her. Biting back a chuckle, she left deciding to come back after rehearsal. Now, she had her angel to find.

* * *

Erik groaned and sat up, gripping his head from yet another painful migraine. His sleep lately had been restless and unsatisfactory. Perhaps it was from that dreadful Carlotta screeching at the top of her lungs.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He adjusted his mask and began preparing for the day. His internal clock told him it was around noon and he cursed himself for working late into the night. His unfinished opera sat messily on his organ, begging for his attention. The quill seemed to quiver in want of his fingers; the ink seemed to beckon him to the bottle. But he refrained. He had much to do before returning to work on his masterpiece.

The loneliness and bitterness once again welled up inside him. Ten years. It had been ten years that he had been alone and it was an all too familiar feeling. Instead of a hellhole at the circus, he was subject to his own torture as constant reminders of his angel stared him in the face daily.

_Christine…_

Oh how he missed her. But he had let go of hope years ago. She would never return. Who would, knowing a monster awaited them? In her absence, his soul had blackened and twisted much like his deformed face. He had killed, tormented, and haunted in this opera house for ten years. He would be satisfied continuing this regimen for the rest of his existence. Why wouldn't he? He shared his pain and misery with the rest of the world. They shouldn't be allowed to live happy lives while he couldn't.

He soon found himself in the rafters over the concert room. That beast Carlotta was singing. He shuddered involuntarily. God, she was awful. He would have to meet with the new managers and arrange for a new primadona as soon as possible.

He stiffened as he saw a familiar face waltz out onto the floor. The Vicompte de Chagny. Ballerinas quivered at the sight of him. His wavy brown hair was tied back in a ribbon and his attire screamed wealth and status. Raoul was their new patron. It sickened him to think this fool had anything to do with his opera house. He remembered all the torment he put Christine through in their childhood.

_Flashback_

_Christine ducked behind a stage prop as a few stragglers left the concert room. Nervousness made her movements stiff and unsure. Tonight was a big night for her. She would sing for her Angel of Music for the first time. _

_She silently crept towards the center of the stage, just how Erik had told her to do. Suddenly, she sensed his presence. A shy smile crept on her face and she clasped her hands behind her back. _

"_Go on, Christine." His gentle voice whispered in her ear. She shivered. Erik was a magician who could make his voice go anywhere he wanted. It always delighted her. _

_Christine took a deep breath and opened her mouth. _

"_Edelweiss, edelweiss. Every morning you greet me," her soft voice filled the room with its angelic tone. Erik, who hid in the rafters above, felt pride and awe swell within him. Christine was magnificent. Her voice was purer and more talented than anything he had ever heard. _

_Christine gained confidence and her voice grew stronger. "Small and white, clean and bright, you look happy to meet me. Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow, bloom and grow forever." _

"_Edel-" she was cut off by a cruel snort from behind her. She whirled to see a young Raoul stalking towards her. He held a lantern up to his face and she could see it was twisted into a look of mockery. _

"_What are you doing here, you foolish girl? Singing?" He sneered. Christine shrunk away, nodding. _

"_Y-yes, Raoul. Why can't I-" She stuttered. _

"_Why can't you sing? Simple! Because you can't sing." He got into her face and spit the last sentence out. Tears pricked her eyes. _

"_I can to sing. My angel-" he cut her off once again. _

"_You're angel of music? Grow up, Christine. Fairytales fed to you by your failure of a father." Raoul spat. Christine started to sob softly. _

"_Papa…" she whimpered. Raoul sat back, satisfied. He couldn't have his future wife chasing such silly dreams as a singer and believing in such nonsense. _

_Erik saw red. At first he felt only mild irritation at the intrusion of her betrothed, but after seeing him torment her to the point of tears, he could stand it no longer. His beautiful, innocent angel was hurting because of the cruel words fed to her by this bigot. His rage caused him to shake. _

_No one messed with what was his. _

"_Insolent fool! You slave of fashion, basking in your glory!" Erik made his voice reverberate in the concert room, shaking even the chandelier. He saw Raoul pale in the flickering lantern light. _

"_What trickery is this?" he whispered, fear rising. Christine stopped crying and gazed up into the ceiling, a small smile on her tearstained face. _

"_I am her Angel of Music," Erik sang. Raoul scoffed. _

"_Come out, whoever you are. Face me like a man!" He cried. Erik scoffed. As if that idiot was a man. Instead, he drew a knife from the folds of his shirt. With a flick of his wrist, he cut the ropes holding the curtains. They fell in whispering folds to land behind Raoul and Christine. They both jumped in surprise, and Raoul dropped the lantern. Uttering a curse, he fled. _

"_Thank you, Erik." Christine murmured. Erik calmed down at her soft voice and his expression became tender. No one messed with what was his._

_End Flashback_

With a swoosh of his cape, Erik vanished from the concert room. The memory angered him. It took him ages to convince Christine to sing again. Her confidence had been shattered by that ignorant fool. Ever since then, Raoul had been cruel but wary of the young girl. Erik had to keep a close watch on him to prevent him from tormenting her.

He sought out Madam Giry. He had a note to leave her.

* * *

Christine huffed, slumping down on a forgotten chair. It was impossible. Even as a child she only knew that one way to find Erik's home. But there was no way she would fit into that cramped space now. Her angel had always been so secretive of his passageways in the opera house. He always came to her and it was rarely the other way around.

"Christine!" cried a familiar voice. Turning, she smiled as she caught sight of her long lost friend.

"Meg!" The two embraced quickly. Christine pulled away. "How have you been?"

"I've been great! It's been so long, Christine. How have you been?"

"I've been better, but I'm great now that I'm back in Paris. How is everyone?" she questioned excitedly.

"Oh they're the same. Not much has changed since you left. We have a new star soprano, Carlotta." Meg said, with a disgusted look on her face.

"Was that Carlotta singing during the rehearsal?" Christine asked. Meg nodded. Christine shuddered. "How awful. Why won't the managers replace her?"

Meg shrugged. "I have no idea. I await the day when she will. Come, you must meet with Mother. She's been anxiously waiting for your arrival."

Christine nodded and let the blonde woman lead her away. A tinge a disappointment pulled Christine's mouth into a small frown. Maybe today wasn't the day when she would be reunited with her friend.

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oooo when will they finally meet? if it isn't already obvious, i hate raoul ;)

R&R please!

LD


	3. Chapter 3

i do not own the phantom of the opera, unfortunately ]=

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Christine kicked off her shoes with a contended sigh. Her large apartment was lit warmly by a roaring fire. She began undressing, her fingers fumbling with the complicated strings and buttons. She let out a frustrated huff and began tearing at her travel garb in an effort to free herself. With a final pull, her dress came loose and pooled roughly at her feet. She stretched, now only clothed in her undergarments. She paused as her eye caught the window. Outside she could see the opera house standing majestically in the snow.

She couldn't help the intense feeling f nostalgia that rose up inside her at the sight. It was marvelous to be back in Paris among friends. The meeting with Madam Giry went very well, and the woman unknowingly gave her hints about Erik's wellbeing.

_Flashback_

_Madam Giry poured the tea graciously before sitting down in front of her. _

"_So what brings you here, my dear?" Madam Giry questioned. Christine sipped her tea delicately. _

"_I always felt more at home in Paris than in York," she responded. "Plus, I've come to work on my operas and singing." She added. Madam Giry sat back. _

"_Your operas?" she asked, astounded. A woman composing was almost unheard of. Christine nodded, smiling slightly. _

"_Yes. Father Kept me very busy once I returned. I was taught by the finest music teachers England offered. But, alas, none were as memorable as my dear angel." _

_Madam Giry dropped her tea cup at the mention of Erik. Meg glanced up at her, worried. Madam Giry flashed an uncertain smile before waving off Christine's words. _

"_Ah, angels are quite mysterious. Once their reason for appearing disappears, so do they." She said nonchalantly. Christine frowned. Had Erik gone into hiding? Or worse… left? _

"_But every now and then, our poor opera house will be subject to a certain opera ghost's pranks," Madam Giry added with a wink. Christine was puzzled. Opera Ghost? Is that what they called Erik nowadays? How odd… How horrible. _

_Christine forced a smile back, but was not able to concentrate for the rest of the visit. She excused herself early to retire for the night. _

_End Flashback_

Christine stepped away from the window. She didn't know why they referred to Erik as the Opera Ghost, but she didn't like it. Her friend was an angel, not a ghost. He didn't deserve to be treated in such a way. Of course, Erik had received horrible treatment throughout his life. What little he did tell her was filled with horrific details, the stuff of nightmares. Even his own mother shunned him to the point where he was sold to a freak show. Anger made her fists clench. Erik was a gentle soul and she had always made it her business to show him that love did exist in the world.

Love. What a silly notion. The only love she had ever really experienced was here in Paris, but even then it was sparse. Her father treated her with respect, but nothing more. Her childhood had lacked the father daughter connection she had yearned for. She had learned quickly not to trust those who sought after her heart. The only reason her relatives had supported her trip to Paris was their hopes of her meeting up with her long lost betrothed, Raoul. She shuddered at his name. Such a foul creature. She remembered all too well the pranks and cruel words he spoke to her during her years at the opera house. The boy she knew was arrogant and harsh. She doubted and didn't care if he had changed or not. She shook her head in an attempt to rid it of those thoughts and began dressing for the night.

* * *

Erik peered down into Madam Giry's office silently. No doubt she knew he was there, but the managers were in her room and he needed to know why.

"Tomorrow, you are to meet with a young woman who used to work in this opera house as a ballerina." Madam Giry began, Erik listened, his interest peaked.

The managers scoffed. "We have plenty of ballerinas as it is. We have no need for more."

"Ah, but she is a ballerina no more. She has studied to become a great composer and singer." Madam Giry said.

The managers leaned forward. "A woman? A composer? Preposterous! Women do not compose!" they cried. Madam Giry shook her head.

"But think of it, the first opera house to have a woman compose an opera! It would draw many people who are curious about that notion." She baited. Silence. "If nothing more, meet with her to discuss the prospect of her becoming the new primadonna. Carlotta has seen one too many seasons as the main star of this opera house. Give this new girl a chance." She said. The managers sat back. They knew they needed a new star, and quick. The public was tired of the same old Carlotta and her awful singing.

"What is this girl's name?" they asked. Madam Giry smirked, casted a glance Erik's way, and spoke.

"Christine Daae." She said.

Erik felt his world collapse on him. Christine! Here! Joy, the first he had felt since she left, exploded inside him. And she was a composer! And a singer! Oh she exceeded his expectations. He had to see her. Why had he not seen her earlier? How could Madam Giry keep something like this from him for a whole day?

The dark figure waited silently for their meeting to end before making himself known. His intimidating form towered over the elderly lady as she cleaned up her office.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice rough. Madam Giry was not intimidated. Her movements remained calm.

"She has rented an apartment across the street. But you can wait until tomorrow to see her…" she turned around but discovered he had already left. Heaving a weary sigh, she headed to bed.

Erik had not been outside the opera house in years. The snow fell thickly on the ground and noises from horses and carriages were distracting. A building that he had never noticed before stood across the street. All the windows were dark save one. His heart leapt in his throat. Something told him that was Christine's room. He swiftly crossed the street and began climbing the building. He was thankful for his dark clothes so that no one would notice him.

He perched himself on the ledge and peered into the room. His heart raced at the sight that met his eyes.

Christine was dressing for bed. She was lacing up a nightgown that left little to the imagination when it came to her cleavage. The lace hugged her full, pale bosom almost tenderly. When she stood, he could make out her feminine form beneath her gown from the light that shone through. He could see her hips flare out into shapely legs that he could envision wrapped around his hips. His loins burned for her.

She turned her face to him, and his breath was taken away. Her heart shaped face was pale and sweet. Her innocent beauty had not diminished over the years. Her bright eyes were such a contrast to her dark curly hair. She reached up and freed it from its confining pins. It tumbled to her waist in thick locks.

Erik had never seen something so beautiful. His very soul yearned for her. He had to have her. Determination rose up inside him. She was his; that had not changed in the passing years. Even now with her blossoming beauty, that feeling only grew. His breathing became erratic as she brushed her hair. His eyes were fixed on her as she readied herself for bed.

She walked over to a desk and pulled out sheets bound together by a bit of leather string. She sat and began working, staring out into space and her lips moving as she pondered what to write. His ears strained to hear what she was saying, but alas, he could not hear. He was curious as to what she was writing. Maybe an opera as he had heard?

She worked for hours, until her head was dropping in exhaustion. His heart went out to her. She stood and pulled back the sheets of her bed before slipping inside. She was asleep instantly. He wanted to tuck her into his bed, to tightly wrap sheets around her protectively and shut her away from all the evil in the world. Her face was illuminated by the fire in the hearth. His fingers twitched, wanting to run themselves over her skin to see if it was indeed as silky as it appeared.

Erik tore himself away from the picture of happiness and beauty before the dark part of his soul completely took over. He would meet with her again tomorrow, hopefully when he had more control over his more carnal urges.

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well whatcha think? let me know in your reviews!

LD


	4. Chapter 4

hello again! didya miss me? well i first want to apologize to my readers for the extremely long wait. i wont make excuses but im back and that's all that matters! here's the long awaited chapter 4. and with all the ideas i have for this story, a slew of chapters is sure to follow!

unfortunately, i do not own poto =[

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_A small girl sat huddled in the darkened chapel, a single candle lit. Her hands were clasped tightly in prayer; a small photograph of a woman lay on the floor in front of her. Hushed sobs echoed off the stone walls._

"_Oh, Mama. I miss you," said the little girl sorrowfully. She sat there a little longer, gazing at the picture, the candlelight gently licking her dark curls._

"_Why do you cry, child?" came a voice from right behind her. With a startled scream, she whipped around, eyes searching frantically for whoever had spoken. Nothing but darkness met her._

"_Hello?" she asked tentatively. She heard a quiet rustle of clothing and she tensed. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a figure._

"_Who are you? I won't hurt you. Please come out," the little girl said softly. She could tell the figure hesitated before slowly stepping into the dim light._

_A boy stood before her. Older than her, she was for sure, but still a scrawny boy with dirty clothes and an old sack over his head. She stood and faced him._

"_What's your name?" she asked. "Mine's Christine. Christine Daae." She did a proper curtsy like how she was taught back home before raising her eyes to meet the stranger._

_Why did she not ask about the sack? Erik wondered. He could tell from her curious blue eyes had noticed it, but something refrained her from asking. Erik had lived in this opera house for almost ten years and he had never seen the girl before him before. Was she a new addition to the ballerinas?_

"_Erik." He answered shortly, unsure of why he even gave an answer. He knew better than to get close to anyone. They were all the same. They'd see his face and shrink away in terror and disgust. It was a feeling he knew all too well and he wasn't about to let it happen again. He began disappearing into the shadows._

"_Wait!" Christine cried. She rushed forward and latched herself onto his dirty shirt. Erik tensed in surprise and narrowed his eyes at the girl._

"_Let me go," he growled. Christine began trembling at his tone, but held firm._

"_I'm so lonely in this opera house. No one wants to be my friend. Will you be my friend?" she asked hopefully._

_Erik frowned. A girl many years ago when he was at the circus said the same thing. But when she saw his face, she ran from him, scared and horrified. The she had returned with the crowd, laughing and throwing money into the cage. It had been his last ray of hope in his dismal world, but that girl proved to him that no one could be trusted. Not even little girls._

"_No," he snarled before pulling away and disappearing into the darkness. Christine stood there for a moment, a confused frown on her face._

"_No one says no to being my friend, Monsieur Erik," Christine said, a devilish smile blooming taking over the frown. "And you will be no different."_

_Happy to have a new objective, Christine swooped up the picture of her mother, her previous woes forgotten, and skipped back to her dormitory._

Christine jerked awake at the sound of a knock. She was sweating, her sheets wrapped around her legs tightly, and her fingers clutching a pillow.

"Miss?" came a voice. "Your morning bath is here."

Shaking herself loose, Christine donned a robe and answered the door. A small girl and boy stood in the doorway, their eyes cast down. She smiled at them

"Thank you very much. Please come in," she held the door open for them. The girl set towels down on the desk and the boy set a large tin tub in the middle of the room. Soon, another boy followed in with a large steaming pitcher and began filling the tub.

"What are your names?" Christine asked.

"I'm Heidi," said the little girl. The boy who had brought in the tub fled the room quickly. Christine turned a questioning look to the girl. She shrugged.

"That's Jacob. He's skittish," she said somewhat affectionately. Soon, Jacob reappeared with another steaming pitcher.

"And I'm Caleb," said the other boy proudly, puffing up his chest, his eyes glancing back to Heidi. Christine laughed lightly.

"Well thank you Heidi, Caleb, and Jacob," she said. The three nodded and left quietly. Christine quickly walked to her wardrobe and picked out a deep purple dress. She lay out the undergarments and shoes for the outfit before undressing and slipping into the cooling water.

Christine sighed. It felt good to wash away yesterday and start fresh. She hoped today would be the day she was reunited with her friend, but she had a lot to do within the next few days. She had to secure a position at the opera somehow. Whether it be a singer or a composer.

She picked up rose scented soap and lathered it into her hair. She knew it would be a challenge to become a composer. Women these days did nothing of the sort. Already women of the opera house were viewed less than virtuous. But to her, her dreams came before her reputation. She chuckled to think of what her family back in England would say.

"What? You're writing operas? For an opera house? Oh, the shame," would say her aunt Beatrice as she swooned.

"What about the wealthy Vicompte de Chagny? Marry him and take up a life the way a respectable woman should," would order her other aunt Susannah.

"Yes, a respectable life bearing children," Christine uttered. While the thought of children thrilled her, it wasn't what she wanted to be valued for in the eyes of her husband. And the Vicompte was always less than pleasant to her. She had a feeling if she ever pursued that lifestyle, her musical capabilities would be smothered until they died out.

She shuddered and began rubbing jasmine oil into her skin. The water was cool, and she was anxious to present her work to the manager. She stood and dried quickly. There was much to be done.

Erik stood in the rafters, glaring down at rehearsal from behind a black porcelain mask. His discolored eyes glinted in the darkness. Carlotta was absolutely horrible. She sounded like a toad. The only reason the managers kept her around was for her beauty. But beneath her beautiful exterior lied a cold, vindictive witch willing to do anything to stay at the top. And from the recent crowds the opera house had scene, the public was beginning to notice.

His gloved hands gripped the knife steadily, hoping to perform out his plans quickly before Christine arrived. He had a plan to integrate Christine into the opera house and though the first step may be risky, he was willing to try it. If Carlotta would just take a few more steps…

Ah hah! With a flick of his wrist, the rope was cut, and the curtain was sent sailing down towards the screeching soprano. A burst of screams sounded in the opera house, and many cries of "the opera ghost! He's here!" flitted across his ears. Smirking, he disappeared from the rafters, knowing they would come searching for him soon.

Christine had been watching the performance with a small smile on her face. It was wonderful to see people she had known years ago grow and reach the positions they had wanted. Seeing Madam Giry standing off to the side, Christine began approaching her when screams burst out.

"Christine!" came a familiar shout. She felt someone collide into her and both of them went flying out of the way of the tumbling curtain. Dazed, Christine sat up, realizing her papers had been scattered about. Frowning, she turned to see who had been the cause, when her mouth fell open.

Raoul de Chagny sat up next to her, a relieved smile on his handsome face. And Christine saw that it was indeed very handsome, but the thought was quickly overshadowed by the remembrance of her dear papers.

"Raoul," she began. He stood quickly and offered his hand which she accepted. Once she was on her feet, she bent down and began gathering her papers.

"Raoul, what on earth were you doing?" she questioned angrily. Raoul said nothing, surprised by her obvious anger.

"Why, my dear, the curtains had come loose and if I had not been there-"

"Oh, save it Raoul. I wasn't prancing across the middle of the stage. The curtains wouldn't have hit me," Christine said impatiently as she began putting her papers back into her leather notebook.

"Here, let me help." Raoul said as he stooped and began gathering her music sheets. He paused, glancing at them in surprise. "Is this your work, Christine?"

"Yes," she answered shortly. She snatched them out of his hands, taking note of the obvious frown of disapproval. "Now if you excuse me, I have a meeting with the manager."

She swept away to Madam Giry, who had watched the entire encounter with a small smile of amusement. Raoul stared after her with a look of bewilderment and slight annoyance. His looks had done nothing to sway his estranged betrothed. Next time, he'll have to slather on the charm in order to get her to notice him.

He had noticed how much little Christine had grown. She was now a woman, well over the marrying age, but still young and vibrant enough to produce strong heirs. He had felt her luscious body beneath him when he tackled her, and the feeling of her curves against him had his blood racing. Oh yes, he vowed. She will be mine.

Erik had seen the whole ordeal. Right down to the lustful look in de Chagny's eye when he stood to help his Christine up. He took in her scattered music sheets and strained to get a closer look, but could not make out any notes from where he was.

Making a note to take care of the Vicompte later, Erik followed Christine and Madam Giry to the managers' office. He could faintly hear their conversation.

"The old manager was replaced last year," said Madam Giry, her cane clicking lightly on the floor. "These two new buffoons know nothing of how to run an opera house. But this might be of some use if you want to become a composer."

Christine nodded, understanding. She was nervous, her heart was racing. She could feel beads of moisture on her palms. As Madam Giry knocked on the office door, Christine began preparing her persuasion, gripping her papers excitedly. Suddenly, they heard a flurry of footsteps coming from behind them. Carlotta, followed by Piangi, brushed past them, leaving a wave of nauseating combination of perfume and body odor, and burst into the managers' office.

"I quit!" she shrieked.

* * *

there you have it! what do you think? i might be a little rusty, so no flames please! but other critiques and pleasant reviews are appreciated and encouraged!

LD


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